Driving and Drinking [North to Parowan Gap] (David Lee)

I don't know who David Lee is, but I found this poem of his through a series of uninteresting twists.

It's almost cheesy with its "Indins" and "Misippi". In fact, I wish he had found a way to express drunkenness without turning to those types of cop-outs. Not cop-outs exactly, it's just they are too easy. Where is the subtlety? I much prefer this tell: "you just turn there and that dirt road/goes out to the Gap/where them Indins wrote on them rocks/I remember the first time/I ever got drunk." The non-linear thinking, the childishness of his statement is just perfect in how it lets you know how much drinking and driving N has been doing.

Favorite line: "Me and my brother/we was following this branch back home in Misippi/when we seen a trail leading off/and he knew but I didn't"

Evening Concert, Sainte-Chapelle (John Updike)

I know John Updike for writing the Rabbit series. Had no idea he also wrote poetry. Poets.org only shows one poem to his name so it seems he mainly stuck with prose.

And even this poem is pretty prose-y. True, the lines are of equal measure. It's a sonnet and there is ample use of alliteration. Maybe too much alliteration really. I mean, this line: "across the Seine;/we rustled into place. Then violins/vaunting Vivaldi's strident strength' becomes almost funny with all of its trills. Maybe it's a clever statement of Vivaldi's music. I'm not familiar.

Favorite line: "in shapes/of shield and cross and strut and brace"

Bread Dipped in Olive Oil and Salt (Theo Dorgan)

Bread dipped in Olive Oil and Salt? Sounds like half of a bad idea. Or half a good one, I suppose. I mean, bread dipped in salt??? Shudder. Ew. And mostly impossible. How do you dip something into a solid? You can't. Only except, salt isn't a solid in the same way that steel is.

But still, makes me doubt the truth of what N is saying that stories lead on to stories. "Story opening story" Uh huh, yeah right, in the same way that salt is a great dipping sauce??

Dunno, I get that he's going for substance, but I don't buy it.

Favorite line: "Bread dipped in olive oil and salt"

What Was Told, That (Rumi)

What Was Told, That by the poet Rumi.

I know it's translated, but gosh, I love the phrasing and the line lengths and the couplets of this poem. Pretty groovy stuff.

The poem reminds me of the song sung by Nina Simone: Feeling Good. Things are wholly awesome. And by hearing that song, by reading this poem I feel a shadow of that complete goodness and simply have to smile. I felt a little lighter as I finished reading this poem.

Favorite line: "What was said to the rose that made it open was said/to me here in my chest."

Dreams (Langston Hughes)

Oh man, who doesn't know this poem? I had to memorize it back in the day. For some reason I think it may have been the first poem we ever truly covered in school - had a discussion about. Langston Hughes has written far better poems, but still, this one has a special place for me.

It's seems like a poem written in an English class. "Take a common word and write a poem in which you creatively define it. At least two metaphors required." Guess that makes L. Hughes a slacker since he did the bare minimum.

Dunno, guess I liked it a lot more when I first encountered it. Wonder if that's the case for other people. That it doesn't have much repeat value.

Favorite line: "Life is a barren field"

MIA

Sleep now. Poem tomorrow.

Ulysses (Lord Alfred Tennyson)

I first read this poem by Lord Alfred Tennyson in high school, as I imagine most people do. This poem is certainly longer than most poems I cover in this blog. It's dense. Both in subject and in the physical placement of words on the page.

Ha! It's poetic fanfiction! Take a character from someone's work. Imagine their problem - put into a creative output. 14-year-olds do it. And apparently so do 19th century dudes. Of course, it's actual talent to put this kind of spin on something so established.

Ulysses has grown old. He wants to do new things once again. He wants to explore. He seems bored (ha! and that, perhaps, is why he spend days writing this masterpiece!). His declaration at the end of the poem, to never cease in exploration, at first seems wonderful - full of spirit. But on second look, it's totally an escape. He's bored at home, so he runs? And what about his family? His responsibilities?

Perhaps it's not such a bold declaration as much as the immature coward's way out.

Favorite line: "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Lucille Clifton

Sorry to not have written in days. Not sure why I didn't. I've got to keep at this, daily.

In my absentia, the poet Lucille Clifton passed away. I've talked about a few of her poems in the past. For this memorial, I'm going to return to her rendition of homage to my hips. The pride in her voice is for her womanhood, true, but couldn't it also be for the art of poetry, for this poem, future poems, all poems.

Let's say it is and toast these last few days to Lucille Clifton - pure poet.

A Flea And A Fly (Unknown)

That's not the real title on this limerick. I don't know the title; I don't know the poet. I do know that this is one funny, clever poem.

Word play!

I was going to say more, but no, that pretty much sums it up. It's fun, clever, and literate. Love it!

Favorite line: "So they flew through a flaw in the flue"

Answer to a Child's Question (Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Ha! and man, will lovers never tire of talking about anything but themselves?? I mean, yes, yes, this poem by Sam C. could be about a nice spring day or even Valentine's. But, what I first thought of after reading it was that N is just tired/fed up with lovers' inane talk concerning themselves.

Maybe I'm just hoping for and feeling out a comic note in what would be an ordinary 19th century short poem on Nature. Who knows? I see that too, but I prefer thinking that Coleridge is putting a smack-down on the neighborhood lovebirds.

Favorite line: "But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,/And singing, and loving—all come back together."